


i see said the blind man

by Swiggity_swydra_fuck_hydra (Haych_Aych_Ach)



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Daemons, Body Horror, Gen, Honesty, Past Child Abuse, Self-Mutilation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-03
Updated: 2016-08-03
Packaged: 2018-07-29 01:25:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7664908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Haych_Aych_Ach/pseuds/Swiggity_swydra_fuck_hydra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Matt's nighttime hobbies comes out, he tells Foggy he can ask anything he wants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i see said the blind man

**Author's Note:**

> Strong trigger warnings for self-mutilation and abuse.
> 
> Disclaimer: the actions characters take in this story, the things they are into, and how they behave is not a reflection on the author or commenter/reader's own beliefs, interests, morals, personality, etc. Fiction is fiction. What some characters like to do and what they think is right is not necessarily correlating with reality or truth, etc.

It's precisely one week after Fisk's trial ends that Matt tells Foggy that he can have a night of honesty, a night where Foggy can ask anything he wants of Matt and Matt will answer to the fullest of his ability.

"So it's a one-person in-person AMA?" Foggy's daemon, Tanara, asks dryly from where she's lounging. Her claws click on the floor, and she loves sitting upright on the sofa. "Just about your after-school hobby?"

"It's not a _hobby_ ," Eccle refutes from where she curled up in Tanara's belly-fur. "It's a calling."

"I'm gonna put that on your gravestone," Tanara shoots back. "Anyway, seriously?"

"They can be about anything," Matt says. "I'll answer any questions to the best of my knowledge."

There's an awful second, and then Foggy sighs. "You know what? Yeah. I'll probably regret this--"

"You mean _definitely_ \--"

"But yeah. Let's do this."

* * *

 

Matt gives Foggy a beer as he sits down, Eccle climbing into his lap. He strokes along her fur, with the grain.

"Okay, first question: what did you have for breakfast this morning?"

"Foggy--" Matt sighs, and then Eccle chimes in. "Plain egg on an English muffin, next."

It _is_ weird how she talks to Foggy, and Tanara to Matt; it makes him feel periodically self-conscious and then defiant. People give them _looks_ , and it's half of what makes everyone assume they're a couple, which. They're not. (Unfortunately, a part of Matt feels. Maybe if he gave Foggy more he wouldn't ever _leave_ again.)

"Is your thing with not even _salting_ your eggs the sensitivity thing?" Foggy asks.

"Yes. Eggs by themselves are salty, and so is almost every kind of fat people cook them in," Matt says.

"Is that why you literally never let anyone who's not me cook for you?"

"Everyone oversalts things," Matt says with a shrug. He never puts more than a pinch of any given spice in anything, and that's enough for him.

"But you eat what we make for you," Tanara says. "Everything. Even when it's burnt."

Matt shrugs, uncomfortable. Eccle--who is so much more needy, it's shameful--says, "But you're our friend. We love you."

There's an awful second, and then Foggy says, "Why do only you ever say that, and not Matt?"

"Because.." and even Eccle can't explain that. "It's a long story."

Foggy seems to squint--but he sighs and moves on. "Did--nope, that's way too personal."

"It's not too personal!" Tanara sounds upset. "The whole point of this is that we get to ask personal questions and, you know, clear the air!"

"Yeah, but--"

"Just ask it," Matt mutters and takes a swig of his beer, which is _not_ shit, fuck you very much. "It's uncomfortable either way."

"Fine, okay, but you asked for it, buddy," Foggy mutters. Then he clears his throat. "Uh--didEcclegetlblindedtoointheaccident."

Matt blinks. "What?"

"Did, uh, er, did Eccle get blinded too, in the accident? I didn't think she did, it wasn't in the newspapers, and usually, well, you know." Usually, daemons don't have the same disabilities as their human unless they're born that way. If you don't come out of the womb without a left forearm, for example, it's vanishingly rare for your daemon to not have one; if you weren't born blind, your daemon isn't usually blind.

But, well, no. Trust Foggy to go for the throat after the tiniest of preamble; that's what he's good at, after all, cushioning you right before the fatal drop.

"...no." Matt says, and drinks more beer. Eccle on his lap feels stiff the way she does before a fight, growling low and making even Matt's hair stand up. Most people think she's just a badger, and Matt doesn't correct them. In her new armor, she's impossible to identify; before, he just sprayed the one-night hair-dye on her back and she was invisible in the darkness.

"Is that it?"

Eccle and Matt both pause.

"No, there's a story," Matt says. He just has no desire to _tell_ it.

* * *

 

Matt is ten or eleven--time is fuzzy--and he and Eccle are sparring with Stick and his daemon.

( _Who is Stick?_

_My teacher. He, uh, taught me how to fight. Channel the anger._

_Like Mr Miyagi?_

_...no_ ).

Eccle is twisting around in her skin, biting the daemon in the face, growling and holding on, and then Stick shines a flashlight right into her eyes and she gets distracted and loses the fight.

( _Wait, he--he made your daemon fight?_

_He didn't make us do anything, Foggy._

_You were ten!_

_Do you want to hear the story or not_ )

Matt sighs as she comes back over and he pets her, hands sticky with blood. Stick sneers and repositions himself, cane up. "She's a weakness to you right now, boy."

Matt glares at him, or in the direction of him--or, in the direction that Matt _thinks_ he's in. Matt's Matt but Stick is _sneaky_ and Matt's still learning.

His daemon tells Stick something and he laughs. "That too. She needs to learn like you do."

Matt's stumped. He knows he has his hearing and smell and everything else--the radar, the prickling skin when someone's looking at him--from the accident, but she wasn't even in the chemicals, she was knocking the old man's little dog daemon out of the way.

"How?"

"Sight," Stick tells him, stalking around him in a circle, "Is an impediment. She needs to match you, to fight like you, to be in concert with you. None of this nonsense where you two never get in synch."

( _A soft noise of horror_.)

"You'll do it at dawn," Stick tells him.

"Or?"

"Or? There is no or. Do you _want_ to give up and be a failure? Or do you _want_ to do what's necessary to _be a soldier_?"

( _You were a fucking **child soldier**?_

 _Foggy, listen to the story._ )

Matt knows the right answer now, and so when dawn comes and he sits, Eccle in his lap, and Stick is holding a curved knife, he doesn't hesitate. Matt takes the blade from him to an approving nod; he'll do this himself or not at all. His hands are steady and Eccle holds still, snarling but bearing the pain. She knows this has to be done. She doesn't like Stick or his daemon at all, but she agrees; they have to be in synch. They have to _match_. She wants to live in Matt's world and this is the only way.

Once it's done, Matt walks home, her in his arms, and from then on it's another training exercise in hiding in plain sight until she's healed up and Eccle learning like Matt learned and them sparring and sparring until she can _rip_ and _shred_ and _bite_ and tear off chunks of Stick's stupid nameless daemon and even the doctor the nuns drag him too can do nothing for her. Matt comes back with a grin on his face--he _won_ \--and the next day, when Stick is supposed to teach him knives--he doesn't come back.

He never, ever comes back.

* * *

 

Matt blinks. He can smell tears, and Tarana is coming over, her lumbering mass plucking Eccle from his legs and hugging her close like a cub.

"Jesus fucking christ," Foggy is saying, and his voice is thick and choked up. "Jesus. That is--that is the worst thing I have ever heard about in my life. Fuck. Who the fuck-- _how_ \-- Jesus. I can't. Honesty hour is over, okay, I am going to have nightmares about this for the rest of my life."

Matt's very confused. It's not exactly happy, but--"But it's okay, Foggy. We match."

Foggy's silent, almost sobbing, and Matt knows what to do. He rises and hugs Foggy like Tarana is hugging Eccle, tight and warm. It's okay, Matt is strong.

"It's okay, Foggy."

**Author's Note:**

> As a quick reference--
> 
> Foggy's daemon is a sloth bear named Tanara.
> 
> Matt's daemon is a honey badger named Eccle.
> 
> Stick's daemon is a mongoose.


End file.
